


Till The Levee Breaks

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Cold Weather, Common Cold, Dean Winchester is So Done, Fever, Fever Dreams, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Leviathans, Protective Sam Winchester, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Sneezing, Whump, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Season 7 Sam and Dean are hiding in rental places and abandoned houses to evade the Leviathan threat. Dean gets sick suddenly and they are stuck in an old place with no heat and nothing but power bars and snickers to eat. Sam has to do the best he can.
Kudos: 30





	1. Hiding Without A Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Brief warning for depictions of violence as it pertains to hunting.

"Is this the best that we can do," complained Sam as they walked into an abandoned house that looked like it had been abandoned before Sam was born. 

The shackles were falling from the roof, the windows were mostly broken with ferns growing inside. The door was slightly ajar and had mold growing at the handle. The forest appeared like it had taken over the house as it's own long ago. There was certainly no pluming, heat, electricity, or anything else they might need. They had stayed in some awful places in their lives, but this one had to top all of them as the absolute worst.

Dean looked back at Sam before he walked up the stairs. One broke and he fell straight through, bits of lumbar and mold flying up in Dean’s face. Luckily, he only fell up to his knee in mud and dead leaves. Dean cringed as he lifted his sopping foot and continued up the stairs appearing sullen and disgruntled.

Sam rolled his eyes as he followed his brother with his duffle flung over his shoulder. "Are you sure that it's the best that we can do," Sam repeated in case Dean hadn't heard him the first time.

Dean sighed heavily. "Yes, I'm sure, Sammy. With the Leviathans popping up everywhere out for our blood and Cas gone, I think that we should just lay low for a while."

"This is beyond laying low. This is hardly laying," Sam complained as he struggled to shut the door behind him. Once he did he walked around on the slick floor of damp wood and moss. 

Dean threw down his duffle on the ground with a grunt and started to set up a makeshift camp. He managed to clear an area to the best of his ability and started a small fire. "Look, it's not forever, just for a few days. We can manage for that long. Hey, we can finally finish that poker tournament, huh?"

"It's hardly a tournament with two," huffed Sam as he threw down his own duffle as dust wafted up, making him cough heavily. "But, okay. It's better than nothing, I guess."

"That's the spirit," agreed Dean as he finally got a small fire burning. He pushed everything back to make sure that the entire structure didn't go up in flames. His eyes glowed as he swiveled his head around to look at Sam. "Want to cook something?"

"Like what, Snickers? Dean, our food supply is low," Sam pointed out as he rummaged around his duffle. He came up with a Snickers bar, some protein bars, half a chocolate bar, and some peanuts. Hardly a meal, but it was better than nothing. They had certainly survived with less. 

Dean snorted as he headed over to his duffle. He dumped everything out and gave it a shake to jiggle everything else. Dean reached forward under a pair of jeans and grabbed half a Rueben sandwich and some chips. He also had some granola bars and pop tarts. It wasn't the most nutritional meal they had ever had, but they were desperate. His stomach rumbled loudly and he looked down shyly. 

"Alright, Sam. Take the sandwich and chips. I'll have the pop tart and peanuts," Dean told him as he started to divide up the food between them. "There. Looks good, huh?" 

Sam shrugged as he grabbed the sandwich and started to chew. It was pretty soggy and stale at best, but it was better than nothing. They ate in silence with the crackle of the fire consuming their thoughts. The wind howled outside and seemed to slice right through the broken glass windows.

"It's cold," Dean commented to break up the silence.

Sam swallowed his bite of Rueben before he nodded. "Um, yeah. I guess so." He hadn't thought about it too much. It was then that he noticed that Dean was shivering. He was shivering right through his t-shirt, flannel, and jacket. That was quite unusual for Dean. Dean was always hot; Sam was the one who was always cold.

Sam tried to ignore it as he finished his meal. Once he did he leaned backwards and his leg almost hit the fire. It started to puff and die and Sam held his breath in apprehension.

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean lunged forward and started to breathe gingerly on the fire while he cupped his hands around it. Eventually it was brought back to life and Dean slightly leaned back. "That was close.”

Sam nodded before he saw Dean fall forward with his head almost hitting his chest. "HutcSHsHSh! HutchsSHsh! HutcsHSHSH!"

"Woah, dude," Sam gasped in surprise as the fire suddenly went out thanks to Dean's onslaught on it. Dean leaned back and cleared his throat in surprise. "What was that?"

"I believe they call it a sneeze," replied Dean bitterly. 

Sam rolled his eyes. "'Yeah, obviously. I just mean that you put out the fire with it," Sam complained as he pulled his jacket tighter around him. "Now what? That was our last match?"

Dean rubbed at the undersides of his flaring nostrils with the corner of his sleeve. Sam could see mucus running from his nose and Sam gnawed at his lower lip. He wasn't exactly a germaphobe, but Dean wasn't exactly sanitary either. He would sneeze openly and use his sleeve or shirt as a tissue. It always made Sam cringe and Dean knew it.

"Well, we could just get close together? It's not like we have sleeping bags," Dean pointed out as he pulled out another sweatshirt from the pile of clothes on the ground as he threw it around himself in an effort to warm him up.

Sam sighed heavily. "Alright. I just hope that this isn't going to last long," muttered Sam as he laid down on his side. It was far from comfortable. It was hard and Dean felt splinters digging into his arm. He couldn't feel his fingers or his toes and his stomach was churning uncomfortably. He probably should've asked Dean exactly how old that sandwich was.

Dean scrambled over to Sam and pressed against his brother. He was so cold that he was shivering against Sam, causing him to tremble. Sam wrapped an arm around him in an effort to stop them both from shaking. If he didn't know better he would've thought that Dean was seizing.

"HutcshsHShh! HutcSHshh! HuhtcSHsHS!"

Sam jumped a bit against his brother as he heard Dean sniffle into his fist. Sam stifled a sigh as he seemed to accept the inevitable.

Dean was sick.


	2. Making The Best Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although this is not the typical situation Sam often finds himself in, he’d do anything in his power to help his brother no matter the circumstances.

Sam awoke with a start when he realized that it was cold beside him. He looked down and expected to see Dean beside him, but he wasn't. Sam sat up and looked around frantically, eyes round when they tried to adjust to the darkness that engulfed him at all angles. 

"Dean? Dean?"

"HutCshSHhSh! HutCshsSH! HuTCshsHs!"

"Dean," Sam called as he looked around for his brother in vain. He stood and felt the coldness wash over him tenfold. He wrapped his arms around his midsection and gave a violent shiver before he trailed over to his brother, who was sitting and facing the window. He appeared to be watching the snow begin to fall, landing delicately on the landscape and bathing it in a layer of frost, but Sam wasn't sure exactly why.

"Dean," Sam repeated as he drew closer to his brother. He could feel the heat coming off of him in waves. The shivering had stopped, but now it appeared that he was sweating. It almost looked like he had just gone swimming with how damp his clothing was and how it stuck against him.

"Dean!" Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder and squeezed tightly. Dean suddenly spun him around to face him, eyes panicked. Dean's head slightly fell forward as his legs buckled when he tried to stand.

Sam caught him easily and hauled him back to sitting position. "Hey, what's going on? Dean?!" Sam leaned forward and ran his fingers through Dean's sweaty, spiky hair. His hands migrated downward and felt his forehead for fever, and sure enough, there it was. There wasn't any doubt in Sam's mind. Unfortunately, there was nothing that Sam could do about it on account of their less than ample supplies at the moment.

"Just watching the snow," croaked Dean hoarsely as he lifted a hand and pointed through half of the shattered glass that looked like a lone tooth. That also meant that the open window was letting in quite an awful draft, especially the closer that they sat toward it.

"Isn't it a little cold by the window," Sam pointed out. He was starting to catch the draft when another powerful rush of wind lapped toward them, half of his face turning completely numb from it. "How about we get a little closer to the center of the room, okay?”

Dean didn't say much as Sam pulled him forward, arms looped around Dean’s waist. The two stumbled to the middle of the room where the fire had once been. Sam set Dean down heavily as he saw his glazed eyes flash upward. "Sam, water,” Dean requested.

Sam looked around madly, heart climbing in his throat. There wasn't much that he could find in the liquid department at the moment. He sighed heavily as he started to rummage all around, tossing numerous articles from both their duffles aside in his haste. "Yeah, yeah. I'm getting it, Dean. Just give me a minute."

He managed to find a small vial of water. True, it was water mixed with rock salt, but it was water nonetheless. He grabbed it and shuffled over to Dean. He pressed it to Dean's lips and Dean drank it down in a few greedy gulps. Once he was finished he turned to Sam with his brow scrunched. "That tasted different."

"That's because it was water with rock salt from when the bag broke at the last hunt. Yeah, I know, you're not supposed to drink it, but we don't have much else," Sam murmured as his head spun madly.

"HutcsHshsHS! HuhtcSHshsHS! HuhtcSHshSH! HuTCSHsHS!"

Sam jumped at the sound and spun to look at his brother. Dean's hand was forced against his nose as he took in a few pathetic sniffs. "T-Tissues," he requested in a slight mumble.

That was definitely something that they didn't have. They never had them. Sam vowed to find something that Dean could use, though. He checked his and Dean's duffle, but found nothing that was like could be considered a tissue. He knew that he was going to have to cave in somewhere for Dean. He sighed as he grabbed his Stanford sweatshirt and kneeled beside his brother.

"Here," Sam offered with his hand stretched out.

Dean took it before he looked at it with surprise in his overbright eyes. "But...."

"Dean, it's fine. We don't have anything else and we'll probably just wash it when we can. It's alright," replied Sam as he sat down beside Dean. He was completely freezing and he almost wished that he had a fever like Dean; at least that way he wouldn't be freezing.

Dean thought for a moment until he finally buried his nose into one of the sleeves and blew. Once he was finished he looked guiltily up at Sam, mouth still agape thanks to the stuffiness. Sam shook his head as Dean rubbed his nose through the sweatshirt once more.

"How are you feeling," Sam asked.

Dean wrinkled his nose. "About as good as you'd expect."

"Right, right. So, why didn't you tell me earlier that you were coming down with something, like yesterday before we picked this joint," Sam asked as he motioned to the house that was about to crumple around them at any moment.

Dean shrugged innocently, neck rolling around stiffly. "Wasn't that sick then," he replied as he coughed into a raised fist. The cough suddenly turned into a hack, which delved him deeper into the fit.

Sam held his brother steady with one hand tightened around his shoulder and the other pounding gingerly against Dean’s back. Eventually Dean caught his breath and rubbed a hand over his swollen lymph nodes that protruded out at the top of his throat. "Well, now you certainly are and I don't really have much that I can do,” Sam assessed, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"Then just wait with me," Dean offered hopefully as his eyelids started to droop. His body grew weary and limbs heavy, even as he attempted to shift so that he could remain awake. The exhaustion that he felt was just too strong for him to ignore.

Sam felt something at the pit of his stomach. Dean had a high fever and probably shouldn't be sleeping if Sam was being honest with himself. Unfortunately, Sam didn't have a way to keep Dean up or a reason to other than the stone of cold dread that settled in his stomach. There was no cold or flu medication or even fever reducer that either of them would have in their respective duffles. Heck they didn't even have Tylenol for the headache Dean no doubt had. Apprehension set the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck standing on end and made him long for a constructive release for this sudden increase in energy.

"Sammy, stay here," Dean repeated as if he read Sam's thoughts that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Sam eventually gave in. Dean was pretty warm and Sam was freezing, so at least they could share the warmth. 

“Alright, but just for a bit. Then you have to wake up and we need to figure something out, got it,” Sam decided decisively as he attempted to find a comfortable position beside his brother with his legs stretched out and back rested against the wall.

Once Sam got finally comfortable, he realized that Dean was already snoring. Sam started to rub at his head and neck feebly as he pressed against his brother, praying that a solution would present itself soon.


	3. Spiked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fever+Snow=A very unhappy Dean

Sam was instantly scared out of his mind when Dean started to shake and mumble incoherent things in his sleep. Even more worrisome, Sam couldn't wake Dean no matter what he tried. He tried grabbing his shoulders and shaking him or even slapping his cheek to try and prompt his brother to wake.

Nothing.

Dean's fever had certainly spiked and now Sam had to cool him down in anyway necessary. Luckily, the entire exterior of the house was covered in a few feet of snow. That would certainly work as well as anything in Sam’s opinion. Dean wouldn't like it one bit, but it would work.

Sam unthreaded himself from his brother's side and darted outside. He leaped from the deck into a bank of snow and immediately grabbed a handful in his bare hands. He rushed back in and tried to ignore the numb feeling that was creeping into his own fingers. He pressed the snow against Dean's face and neck until Dean's eyes popped open in surprise.

Dean let out a scream as Sam helped him sit up. Dean started to shiver and he rubbed the remanences of the snow from his neck. "What the hell, man?!"

"Sorry, Dean. Your fever spiked and I was running out of options," Sam replied as he used the remainder of the snow on the back of Dean's neck.

Dean yelped and jumped, trying to batter his brother away. "Sam, seriously, stop!"   
  
"I told you, Dean. Your fever is still high. I need to get it down and this is the only way," Sam repeated as he looked his brother up and down. 

His eyes were glazed and clearly feverish, his nose was so clogged that he couldn't breathe through it, his lymph nodes were clearly swollen, he was sweating more than seemed humanly possible, and he looked as white as a ghost; Sam would know. He just had no idea what to do for him. They couldn't leave this house no matter how dilapidated the house was. The Leviathans were still out there and Dean couldn't face them like this when he could barely lift his head. They were going to have to stay where they were, no matter how much Sam disliked that idea.

"HutCSHsH! HutcsSHsh! HuTCsHsHs!"

Sam rolled his eyes as he saw Dean turn to the side to unleash his three rapid fire sneezes aimed at the ground. Yes, Dean hadn't sneezed on him, but he hadn't exactly tried to cover them either. It had just been so sudden and almost like a bark of commandment. It was certainly a little daunting to Sam.

"Here," Sam sighed as he lifted the sweatshirt again and handed it over to his brother. "Your nose is running."  
  
"I wonder why," Dean reported as he pressed the sweatshirt against his beat red nose. He blew his nose heavily before he drew away and wrinkled his nose. "Maybe we should've tried a motel."

"You think," Sam snapped. He suddenly bit back the retort. After all, it wasn't Dean's fault that he was sick. It probably sucked more for him then it did for Sam. Sure, he was cold, but at least he wasn't cold and sick. "Sorry. Are you hungry?"

Dean looked down at his stomach. He made a face when he looked back up to his brother. "Just a little," he replied with another sniffle. It was as if the cold was making his nose run even more, if that was even possible.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," replied Sam as he looked around through his duffle. He brought out the Snickers and sighed heavily as he made his way over to his brother. It was better than nothing even though it had no nutritional value to it whatsoever.

Dean took the chocolate bar from his brother and started to gnaw on it hungrily. Once he was finished he licked the chocolate from his fingers and sniffled deeply. "How long do you think we're going to be here?"

"That's a great question, but I have no idea," answered Sam as he started to bring some of the clothes over to make a makeshift bed. He would've liked to wander around the room and see if there was a bed, but he didn't feel like he should leave Dean. Instead, he tried to shift a bit so that he was almost hugging Dean to make sure that his temperature stayed the same. He didn't need anymore spikes.

"Hungry," Dean repeated as he sniffled heavily.

Sam stretched out a hand and managed to find another Snickers. It was a king size and it actually looked really good. However, this was for Dean. It wasn't like they had much else. He handed it over to his brother and Dean nibbled on it hungrily. He swallowed quickly as he pushed it over to Sam's chest.

Sam took it while Dean buried his head into the pile of clothes. "HuTcsHSHSh! HutcSHshsHS! HutcsHSHSh!"

"Bless you," muttered Sam as Dean snatched back the bar. He didn't bother to sniffle or even blow his nose before he was eating again. Once he was finished he crumpled the wrapper and threw it weakly toward one corner of the room. It barely made it a foot, but it was still amazing how Dean could find joy in almost anything despite the situation they found themselves in.

"I think that we should get some rest," mumbled Dean as his head started to sag against Sam's chest. His nose ran freely against Sam's chest, but Sam could barely tell. He was wrapped in numerous layers as well. Sam tried not to be disgusted at his brother. He smiled as he ran his fingers through Dean's sweaty hair. He wasn't even sure when the last time they had showered.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, let's get some rest and see if anything looks better in the morning," Sam murmured as he pressed his head against his brother's and tried to force himself to sleep.


	4. Snow In May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not the best times that the Winchester have ever had, but for some reason, it’s what both of them needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of hunting and graphic violence that goes along with it.

Sam awoke the next day and realized that Dean was still snoring against him. Sam rested a hand against Dean's forehead and felt the fever. It was lower than before, which sent a rush of relief through Sam. He could tell that he was still congested as anything, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before. That simple fact brought peace to Sam's mind just a little.

Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he sat up, letting Dean sleep. He looked around at their depleted supplies and their little to no food supply. He had to do something for his brother and he had an idea. It was probably a pretty stupid idea, but it was an idea nonetheless. He just hoped that everything went off without a hitch.

The sound of gunshots woke Dean and he immediately sat up. The congestion shifted to one nostril before he bucked forward unexpectedly. "HutchsSHsh! HutcSHSHSh! HutCSHSHSH!"

Dean rubbed at his slightly runny nose and reached for Sam's Stanford sweatshirt. He rubbed it against his nose when his mind suddenly realized that he had heard a gunshot. He was pretty sure that it wasn't a fever endured hallucination since it felt more real. However, he knew that something was off when he couldn't find Sam.

"Sab? Sab?!"

Terror rose in his throat until he felt like he was going to be sick. He started to look around before he realized that he was practically spinning. The dizziness set in and caused him to stumble backwards. He landed flat on his back with his glazed eyes slightly facing the ceiling. He felt his eyes prick in tears while he sent a silent prayer that Sam was okay.

A few minutes later, the door swung open. Dean managed to lift his head in a makeshift crunch to see Sam walk through the door with a deer dragging behind him. It was only a stag and Dean didn't actually think that it was legal to kill them, but he wasn't about to dispute it. After all, they had only had protein bars and Snickers for the past two days and Dean's stomach felt like it was about to eat through him at this point.

"Sab?"

"Dean, you sound terrible. Blow your nose," Sam told him as he threw the deer forward and closed the door behind him. Part of the handle suddenly broke off and Sam cast it aside with a shrug. Sam rubbed his hands together and blew on them heavily, trying to warm them up.

Dean shook his head, feverish gaze flickering between Sam and the deer. "Where have you been," he rasped.

"Where do you think," Sam asked as he motioned to the deer. "We can't survive on Snickers for the rest of our time here....at least I can't."

Dean smacked his lips together as he looked to the deer. It wasn't skinned or anything, but Dean still saw delicious burger that could come from it. He threaded his hands in his duffle and brought out a knife. He moved toward the deer only for Sam to dart forward and pluck the knife from Dean's hand.  
  
"Hey," snapped Dean angrily.

"You're in no condition to be gutting and skinning a deer," answered Sam as he started to cut off the skin from the deer. "If you want to be useful then how about you see if you can find anymore matches or at least try and start a fire. I really don't want to eat raw deer."

Dean nodded as he snorted back congestion, his nose beginning to run freely now that he was awake. He dumped out absolutely everything from his duffle and opened every zipper compartment and cranny. However, he found no more matches. He sighed deeply and stood up on shaky legs, fearing they may not support his weight. “I'b goig to look around," he called to Sam before he started to actually explore the house that they found themselves in. They had been there for a few days and only ever stayed in the living room.

Dean headed into one of the bedrooms and saw an old bed frame with no mattress pressed in the corner. It looked like mice had had their way with it over the past couple weeks or months. Dean headed to one of the closets and opened it with a itchy cough shaking his frame. It was dark, dusty, and half of the walls had been kicked in. Dean wrinkled his nose as he moved a moldy, half eaten blanket aside. 

He managed to pull a small box from under the blanket. He stared at it for a moment and pried it open to reveal that the box was an amateur survival kit. There was a Swiss Army knife, a box of matches, and a few bottles of water. Dean could've leapt for joy if his legs didn't feel like jelly. He locked his legs before he carried the box out of the room only to see his brother still hacking away at the deer's skin.

"Sab?"

"What did you find, Dean," questioned Sam as he finished with the deer to the best of his ability. 

"A survivor kit," answered Dean proudly as he came over to Sam and promptly collapsed on the floor flat on his ass. He squinted his eyes as he rubbed a hand against the side of his face. "Matches, water, and a Swiss Army knife. Looks like we kind of hit the jackpot. Who would've thought that it would be in the closet?”

Dean's words started to slur and Sam dropped the knife before he came over to his brother. He rested a hand on his forehead to find it scorching with heat. Sam was quick to grip Dean’s shoulder and began to force him into laying down. "Okay, you need to rest before you pass out," he urged as he walked back outside and headed out of the snow. He grabbed another handful and headed back in.

"No, no," pleaded Dean with a shaky hand outstretched toward Sam as he scrambled backwards feebly, boots scuffling against the sodden ground.

"Sorry, Dean. This is for your own good," Sam told him as he pressed the snow against his forehead and cheeks, allowing the cool water to drip down the back of Dean’s neck. Dean hissed with his back slightly buckling in discomfort. Sam started to hold him down while his eyes kept flickering between Dean to the deer. "Can I finish getting dinner ready while you lay here?"

Dean's teeth chattered together madly from the cold, goosebumps popping up along his arms. He swiveled his head to look at his brother without answering. Instead his eyes forced themselves closed and his breath hitched almost panicked. Sam managed to duck his head to the side just in time for Dean to unleash another onslaught of sneezing his way.

"HtcshShs! HutcsHshsHS! HuTCSHsHs! TcshSHs!"

"Bless you," sighed Sam as he lifted the Stanford sweatshirt and pressed it against Dean's slightly still twitching nostrils. "And cover your mouth next time, will ya?"

Sam left Dean's side and walked back over to the deer. He managed to cut off a slice of the meat once he grabbed the matches from the box. He struck it against the box and kicked pieces of wood in a semicircle in an attempt to arrange them better. He set the match to the woods and watched the fire burn, making him draw back. He used some of the supplies that they had to make a makeshift rack so that he could cook the deer meat. Sam thought that it would fall at any moment with just the smallest amount of pressure, but he had hope that it would stay up for the amount of time that it took to cook the deer.

Sam set the slab of meat down over the fire and picked up his gaze to regard his brother. He smiled at how pathetic he looked and crawled over to him to help him sit up. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, except for the snow in my face, again," replied Dean bitterly with a roll of his eyes.

Sam chuckled in amusement. "Sorry about that, but I had to bring your fever down somehow and the only way that I could is the snow."

Dean shrugged dejectedly, bringing his hand to his nose to paw at it like a dog before it could start running uncontrollably again. "I'd do the same to you and you know it," replied Dean as he lifted a fist to cough into. Sam rubbed at his back softly until the saw the fit that encased Dean seem to ease.

Sam reached over once Dean composed himself and grabbed a bottle of water. He held it to Dean's lips as Dean took a small sip of it. Once he was finished, Dean raised a hand to push it aside, nearly causing Sam to spill it in the process. “I can drink on my own, Sammy,” Dean spat hoarsely, eyes down. Despite Dean’s fierce words, Sam could see the appreciation in Dean’s eyes that was disguised by fever and embarrassment.

Sam decided not to comment on it and instead focused on something that he could control: the meat. Sam stuck a small twig and jabbed it against the meat to check how much it had cooked thus far. Once he was satisfied with that side, he flipped it over and allowed the fire to scorch the raw ends of the venison. The small fire began to roast it to perfection as well as heat the small space around them.

"You know, this would be a pretty nice house if someone had bothered to fix it up," pointed out Sam as he looked at the exposed beams and character that had been there before nature had taken it over.

Dean nodded as his head sagged against his brother's shoulder despite his best efforts to keep himself upright. He breathed loudly through his mouth since his nose was still majorly clogged thanks to the congestion. "Yeah, I guess if you’re into that sorta thing.”

"Hey, don't fall asleep yet! You need to eat," Sam told him as he pulled the meat from the fire and handed it over to Dean. "Take some small bites and then you can get some sleep."

Dean ate ravenously at the hunk of deer. He pushed it once he had finished half over to his brother. Sam lifted a hand and pushed the plate of meat back over to Dean. “You need it more than I do,” Sam pointed out softly.

Dean narrowed his overbright eyes, his jaw set in determination. “You need food just as much as I do. Eat.”

His voice didn’t allow argument and Sam knew better than to tangle with a stubborn and sick Dean. “Okay, give it here.” Sam brought it up to his mouth and took a small bite. It was rather tough and hard to chew, but it was better than Snickers at this point. He smiled at Dean as he swallowed it down, willing the charred meat to stay down.

Dean ate some more until the bit that Sam had cooked was gone. Once full, Dean leaned back heavily against Sam, almost knocking him over. "Are you comfortable," inquired Sam gently, glancing down to his bother. He could see that the flush was still high on Dean’s cheeks and heat was pulsing from him, which was in contrast with the shivers that racked his body and had him pressing closer to Sam to absorb his warmth.

Dean nodded slowly, snuffling into Sam’s sweatshirt. "I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"You know, I'm actually really good. I actually used our hunting skills to hunt for something that everyone else does for a change," Sam pointed out. Ironically, John had taught his sons many survival skills, but hunting actual animals had never been one. Sam assumed it was fairly the same thing and that might’ve been why John never felt the need to focus on it, yet it was too late now to ask.

"Illegally," croaked Dean.

"What," Sam pressed in surprise with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Well, this deer is a stag and it's not even rifle season. But, that's okay. Still a good effort," chuckled Dean as he rubbed a bit at his eyes. 

"Thanks," Sam chuckled as he drew his knees to his chest. He was quite tired himself and still pretty cold. He suddenly wished that he had a fever; at least then it would be able to keep him warm. "I try my best."

"Hey, I forgot something," Dean broke in as he looked up to his brother and blinked his forest green eyes up at him. "Happy Birthday, Sam."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "Really? Is that today? I didn't even realize that." Sam chuckled darkly. "Who would've thought that we'd be here in a cabin nearly freezing? Especially since my birthday is in May. I guess it doesn’t really matter when you’re in Wisconsin.”

"Some crappy birthday, huh? I really wanted to do something spectacular for once. Seems like I've screwed up again." Dean laughed before he broke into a hacking fit. He pitched forward into the sweatshirt, holding it with trembling hands over his face as he coughed raggedly.

Sam started to massage at Dean's back to aid in his breathing, alternating between thumping and rubbing. “Breathe, Dean, breathe,” Sam instructed, voice tightening in concern.

Once Dean was finished coughing, he took the water and started to down it in a few short gulps. He sniffled in the aftermath with a pained expression passing over his features. Sam was just about to ask what was wrong when Dean suddenly pitched forward. "HutcSHshSH! HuTCSHsHs! HutcSHsh!"

Sam was ready with the Stanford sweatshirt, which had been dropped after the coughing fit. He passed it to Dean, who took it eagerly in clammy hands. Dean forced it against his nose and closed his eyes slightly as he blew. "I'm sorry, Sabby."

"Hey, this is actually one of my best birthdays," Sam told him, butting his shoulder against Dean’s good naturally.

Dean squinted one eye. "Really? Why?"

"Probably because I'm mostly well fed, I'm not hunting, nothing is hunting me, and I'm with my brother," pointed out Sam as he looked at the snow that had started to fall once more. They could see it perfectly out of one of the windows from where they were sitting. 

"I'm glad, Sabby." Dean yawned as he started to drift off with his weight fallen completely on Sam. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Dean. Means a lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this fluffy story and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
